On This Day (25 page)

U
nbelievable!”
says Patrick, watching as Suzette Burke storms away, tripping over something invisible as she goes, but somehow staying on her feet.

I do feel sorry for her, but I can’t control myself. Poor Suzette is barely out of earshot before I’m practically splitting my sides, not to mention the seams of this dress, laughing hysterically. Then Patrick is laughing with me, totally cracking up, as he replays how he sneaked up from behind and jumped her.

“I felt terrible when I realized I’d tackled a woman,” he confesses as we both lean against the getaway car, trying to recover from our hysterics. “I honestly thought it was one of the guys.”

“Well, she looked like a thug, prowling around with that knife in her hand,” I tell him. “I was certain she was going to slit Alex’s
tires. But who would’ve guessed it was Suzette Burke?” I start laughing again. “She’s Michael’s boss’s wife!”

“No kidding?” he says. “I wonder if Michael will be in trouble for this.”

“I think she should be in trouble for this. What on earth do you think she was doing?”

“Whatever she was doing, it didn’t look good.” He holds up the pocketknife now. “And this might not be very big, but the blade’s plenty sharp. If nothing else, she could’ve been going after someone’s tires. But why?”

“She’s been acting pretty strange all day. I honestly think there’s something wrong with her mind. I mean, she looks so together on the outside, and her clothes have to cost a fortune, but underneath all that glitz and glamour is one whacked-out woman.” I notice it’s getting pretty chilly out here and use my hands to rub some warmth into my bare arms.

“Pretty sad,” he says, then removes his jacket and slips it over my shoulders.

“Thanks.”

Then he turns and smiles at me. “That’s why I go for the sensible girls.”

“Sensible girls?” I repeat. “What does that mean? Like sensible shoes? Something durable and comfortable, but not too spendy?”

He chuckles. “Okay, not exactly like that, but sort of. I guess I like girls who don’t expect to be treated like princesses. Not that I
wouldn’t treat the right girl like a queen. I just don’t want her to demand that kind of treatment from me. Do you know what I mean?”

I nod. “Yeah, I get you.” I feel bad for putting him on the spot like that, but the problem is, I
really
do get him. But I don’t want to come across as too eager or available or desperate—because I’m not. And I certainly don’t want him to think I’m falling for him because of what happened with Jason today. There is no way I want him to consider himself a rebound romance. I know for a fact that he could be way more than that. I’m just not sure I want him to know that. Not yet.

“Here they come,” I say quietly as I spy a group of guys, some in tuxes, coming our way.

“Just be cool,” says Patrick. “Act like we’re here to decorate the car too. But we’ll make sure things don’t get carried away.”

I pull out my can of whipped cream and start writing “Just Married” on the windshield.

“Hey, you guys beat us to it,” calls Rod.

Soon we are all decorating the car, and to my relief no one is getting out of control. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a long string of cans tied to a bumper before, and I worry that it might bounce up and put a ding on Michael’s beautiful car, which actually belongs to his dad.

“How can you be sure this is the right getaway car?” I ask Michael’s best friend.

“Because Michael’s Range Rover has been hidden someplace,
and no one seems to know where, but we do know they’re using this car to start with.” He puts a last strip of toilet paper over the hood. “The plan is to stick with them until they get to the other car, and then we might actually have a few seconds to do a little more decorating.”

“Oh.” I try not to imagine Michael and Jenny escaping from this car and into another. I hope they know what they’re doing. These guys seem pretty relentless to me, and I’d feel bad for Jenny if things got out of hand.

“Are you going to be part of the getaway chase?” I ask Patrick.

“I guess I could. Do you want to come with me?”

“Do you mind?”

He laughs. “Not at all. But I guess you haven’t heard about my driving.”

“That’s right,” says Conner, coming up from behind. “Patrick thinks he’s Michael Andretti. You might want to reconsider riding with him.”

“That’s okay,” I assure him. “I like a little excitement.” Then I remember our earlier excitement with that Suzette woman, and I start to laugh.

“What is it?” asks Conner.

“Just remembering something,” I say, suppressing my giggles.

Then Patrick starts laughing too.

“What is it?” demands Conner.

“Private joke,” says Patrick as he pats his brother on the back.

“You two are sure getting cozy,” observes Conner.

Then Patrick puts his arm around my shoulders. I can’t tell if it’s a brotherly gesture or what, but I have to admit it feels pretty good. “Ingrid and I go way back, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve known her as long as you have.”

“Maybe so, little brother, but you’ve already got yourself a girl, remember?”

Now Conner’s brows go up, as if he’s putting two and two together; then he slowly nods, as if he approves.

“We better get back in there,” I say. “I can see people gathering outside the tent. I think Jenny and Michael are making their big exit.”

“Yeah, and someone might want to catch that bouquet,” teases Conner.

Then Patrick grabs my hand, and we all race back to the tent just as Jenny and Michael emerge. I get there in time to join the other bridesmaids before Jenny turns her back to us and tosses the bouquet over her shoulder. But it’s Lana who catches it. Never mind that she nearly knocks three of us over as she lunges. But I don’t care. I’m just as happy knowing I’m
not
getting married, at least not anytime soon.

Then everyone is throwing birdseed (since rice is discouraged up here), and we’re all chasing after Michael and Jenny as they race across the grounds.

“Hold on tight,” says Patrick as everyone jumps into cars and he revs his engine and takes off after the newlyweds. Conner has opted to ride with someone else, and I don’t know whether to be
relieved or worried, but I can tell that even though Patrick is driving fast, he’s being careful. And I’m glad we’re the car directly behind Michael and Jenny. That might buy them a bit of time to make the switch to his Range Rover.

It’s a good thing there aren’t houses up here, because everyone is blasting their horns and yelling out the windows. It’s a circus!

Finally, we watch Michael and Jenny’s taillights pull off to the side of the road. Then they jump out of the car and run down a slight incline and head straight for what looks like a small stream. Jenny has changed her clothes, but she still has on a very nice pale pink and white outfit, which isn’t exactly splashing-through-the-stream material. But no need to worry. Michael swoops her up and carries her straight across the water and up to where we see his Range Rover parked on a road.

Everyone else is here now, yelling and honking their horns to announce their arrival. We point out the runaway newlyweds to the others.

“There they go!” I yell. “Have fun, you guys! Don’t forget to write!” Yeah, sure.

Then we hear a couple of happy beeps from the Range Rover, and they’re off. I finally feel my job as maid of honor is done, and I let out a huge sigh of relief.

“Glad that’s over with?” says Patrick as he comes around to open the door for me.

“That’s for sure!” Then I notice the wildly decorated car still sitting on the side of the road. “What about the car?” I ask, and
everyone just looks around like no one’s sure what to do. “We can’t leave it here all night.”

Just then we see another set of headlights come on. It turns out to be Jenny’s dad, and it seems his car has been parked on the other side of the road this whole time! He pulls across the road and lets out Elizabeth and her husband, then waves at us. “Did the kids get across the stream okay?” he yells out his open window.

“No problem,” I tell him. “The lovebirds are safely on their way.”

“Phil and Elizabeth will bring Alex’s car back,” he informs us.

So I guess that settles it. My job tonight is really done. I lean back into the seat of Patrick’s car and finally relax. And he drives much more slowly back to the lodge.

“I’ll bet you’re exhausted,” he says as he slots his car back in the parking lot.

“Pretty much.” I instantly regret my words. What if he was going to ask me to get a cup of coffee or something? Although I suspect the coffee shop in the lodge is closed by now. But a walk perhaps.

“Yeah, me too,” he says as he turns off the ignition.

“Thanks for the ride,” I tell him. “And for everything tonight.”

“No problem.”

As we walk back toward the lodge, I remember that Patrick’s mom said he’s a little on the shy side, and I wonder if I should say something. But what?

Back in the lodge, I hand him his jacket, and I know it’s time
to say good night. But even though I’m totally beat, I really don’t want this night to be over.

“Hey, Ingrid,” he says as we pause at the foot of the stairs. “Mind if I call you sometime? I mean, after we get back home.”

“Sure,” I tell him. “I’d love it.”

He smiles, and it’s one of the best smiles I’ve ever seen. “Cool.”

“Yeah, cool,” I say. “See ya around!”

O
kay, as it turns out, Phil really does have someplace to go. First we go down to the tent, where the festivities are beginning to fizzle out. The crowd has thinned a bit, some still dancing and some sitting back at the tables. Jenny and Jeannette are getting ready to go up to the lodge so Jenny can change into her going-away outfit.

“Want to join us, Aunt Elizabeth?” offers Jenny as Phil and Eric confer about something that seems quite important and confidential.

I glance over at Phil, still engrossed in conversation with his brother-in-law, and decide
why not?
Then, with two older women flanking her, our lovely bride links arms with us, and we parade back into the lodge.

“This has been the best day of my life,” Jenny proclaims as we go inside. “But I’m glad it’s almost over.”

“Even the best days have to come to an end,” says Jeannette, but I hear the tiredness in her voice. I know she’s hugely relieved to have this over with. The poor woman will probably need a week or two to recover!

Anyway, we help Jenny out of her pretty wedding things, then carefully pack them all away as she changes into an ivory pantsuit with a pale pink blouse.

“You’re still just as pretty as a picture,” I tell her.

“That reminds me,” says Jeannette, digging through a bag. “Let’s get some photos of this.”

So Jeannette and I take turns getting shots with Jenny before she insists on taking one of the two of us.

“Two worn-out old women,” I tell her as she snaps the picture.

“Can you believe we were ever as young as she is?” says Jeannette wistfully.

“Were we?” I ask.

“Of course you were,” says Jenny as she hands her mom the camera. “I’ve seen the photos. You were both gorgeous, and you still are. I hope I age as gracefully as the rest of the women in this family.” Then she kisses us both. “And I hope I’m just as smart and good as both of you. Thank you for everything.”

I start to tear up as she gives her mom a long hug, and then we hear a quiet knocking on the door.

“That’s the bridegroom,” says Jeannette as she pauses to blow her nose.

“Don’t keep him waiting,” I tell Jenny as I straighten her corsage and give her one last kiss.

“I love you two,” says Jenny as she opens the door to a smiling Michael.

“You ready for the big getaway?”

She nods. “Let’s do this.”

Jeannette and I trail behind them down the stairs. As we go out a side door, I see a darkly dressed figure entering through the front. “Is that Suzette?” I whisper to my sister.

She pauses to look at the woman walking through the lobby. “I think it is.”

I shake my head. “I wonder what happened to her.”

“Looks like she’s been out rolling in the dirt.”

“Sounds about right,” I say as I hold open the door.

Jeannette giggles once we are outside. “At least she didn’t make too big of a scene tonight. And Jim had the good grace to get her out of there before it got worse.”

I don’t tell Jeannette all the details of Suzette’s marital problems. Maybe another day.

Then we all stand outside the tent where the other guests are gathered, their little net bags open and ready to shower birdseed on the couple. But first Jenny tosses the bouquet. I hope Ingrid catches it, but that Lana girl practically knocks the others down in order to snag it.

Then the newlyweds are off, with everyone chasing them. I follow along in the back, not overly eager to run like the young people, but then someone grabs my hand.

“Come with me,” says Phil. “We have a mission.”

“A mission?”

“Yeah.”

The next thing I know we’re sitting in Eric’s car, and he takes off even before the wedding couple, going down the highway with only his parking lights on until we are out of sight of the lodge. Then he turns on his headlights.

“What’s happening?” I ask.

Phil explains how he and Eric have hidden Michael’s Range Rover just beyond a mountain stream where no cars are able to cross. “We had to park our car on the road, then drive the Range Rover about ten miles on rough terrain just to get it to the right spot,” he tells me. “But it was fun.”

“See, the newlyweds are taking Alex’s fancy Porsche convertible,” continues Eric, “right up to the stream. Then they’ll hike across the stream and take the Range Rover, and no one will be able to follow them.”

“What about Jenny’s outfit?” I ask with concern. I hate to think of that beautiful silk suit all splattered with muddy water.

But the guys don’t answer that question. Eric just pulls over in a wide spot on the side of the road and turns off his lights. “Here they come,” he says in a quiet voice as if the kids parading down the road in their cars might actually hear him.

We watch as first the convertible pulls up, then the others behind them. I can’t actually see what happens after the rest arrive, but I hope that Jenny’s suit won’t get ruined.

Then Eric turns his lights on and pulls across the road and asks Ingrid if the newly-weds got off okay. After he’s assured that all went well, he turns to us.

“See you kids later,” he says.

Then Phil helps me out of the car, and suddenly we’re left standing on the road. “What are we doing?” I ask Phil as the other cars begin to drive away.

He pulls some keys out of his pocket and jingles them. “Want to take a ride?” Then he opens the door of the wildly decorated Porsche and helps me in.

“Nice wheels,” I say as I fasten the seat belt.

“Doesn’t your friend Asher have a car similar to this?” he asks as he gets inside.

I roll my eyes. “As if that matters.”

“What if he wasn’t gay, Elizabeth? What if he came on to you and offered you everything and anything you could ever want? Would you be tempted then?”

“No,” I tell him. “Of course not!”

The rest of the cars are gone now, but we’re still sitting next to the road, close to the stream, and I see the faint glow of the moon coming up on the horizon. It is so quiet that all I can hear is the gurgling of the stream below.

“Why not?” he asks.

“Why not what?”

“What makes you so certain you wouldn’t leave me for someone else, someone younger or richer or better looking, maybe someone like Asher—I mean, if he wasn’t gay? How can you be so sure, Elizabeth?”

I consider this. I know what he’s getting at, but I’m not sure I want to go there. I’m not sure I’m ready to hang my heart out on a limb just yet. I’m still not entirely convinced that there’s nothing between him and Delia. But after a long pause I give in. “Because I love you, Phillip. I always have. I probably always will.” I turn and look at him. “There, you happy now?”

He’s smiling. “Yeah, I am. It’s nice to hear it. I’ve been feeling a little insecure this weekend.”

“You
have?” I try not to sound too angry. “What about me?”

“What about you?”

“How do you think
I’ve
been feeling?”

“But can’t you now see that it was ridiculous? Can’t you see you were imagining things—that we were both imagining things?”

“I know
you
were imagining things, Phil. But I’m still not entirely sure I was imagining things. You said yourself that Delia is into you—that she likes you and would like your relationship to be something beyond jogging buddies. What about that?”

“I’ve been thinking about that since we talked in the lounge, Elizabeth. And I’ve already decided that I need to completely
break off my friendship with Delia. Even if it means that I quit jogging—”

“Oh, I don’t want you to quit—”

“I’m just saying that I’m willing to do whatever it takes. To be honest, I think I’ve been waiting for you to react, honey. I think I wanted to hear that you were feeling a little jealous and that you loved me enough to be concerned about my spending time with Delia. I know it’s immature, and I’m not proud of it, but it’s the truth.”

Now I’m feeling guilty. It occurs to me that I have been a little checked out in our marriage. I’ve probably been shifting my discontent over my job and my age and my place in life onto my husband. I probably haven’t been much fun to live with these past few months, especially these past two days.

“I thought it was you at first, but maybe I’m the one who’s been having a midlife crisis,” I finally admit.

He laughs and reaches for my hand. “I love you, Elizabeth. And if you’re having a crisis of any kind, you need to tell me about it. We’re partners, you know, so you need to involve me in whatever you’re going through. Maybe we can have a midlife crisis
together
—start a new trend.”

I smile. “Maybe so.”

He points to the back window, which, even read backward, clearly says, “Just Married!” “How about it, sweetie?” he says. “How about we pretend this is us? That we just got married and are starting all over again?”

I reach out and grab him by the shoulders, pulling myself over to him until I’m practically in his lap. “I’m so sorry, Phil,” I say. “I
do
love you, and I’d happily marry you all over again!”

And then we kiss—really kiss—just like newlyweds!